Dear lady with the blue jacket, yes it is you who are here in row in front of me, newsstand bench, holding a colored insert, enclosed in plastic along with a scooter. You who at one point - twist! - Open the box, hold the toy and ask the Chinese if all'edicolante - nicely - can throw trash in the magazine and give you a package of Milde Sorte, thank you very much. What do you know, with those 10 € in hand, the value of a written text, even if a trivial technical motorcycle grand prix with two pictures of Valentino Rossi pulled off the internet? For your child that you've chosen a piece of plastic coated with toxic paint probably.
What do you know, dear lady with the car in two rows, what do you know of another child who long ago put aside the surprise eager to devote himself to the newspaper, of course it could well open the door to other worlds for play. What do you know that you entrust your future to scratch, not even imagine how low the probability of solving your problems in this way, what do you know of two brothers who stepped on every Thursday, when returning from school, first to put his hands on the Newspaper that the postman filed, on time during those years, little hole in the mail? What do you know of a mother to force children to eat was to seize their comics until the dishes were empty? What do you know you to find overwhelming emotion during an expedition in the attic, a field of mice (paper) of the ancient ones, with little fuss and publicity.
You seem intelligent, perhaps a gesture to leave the store unnecessary paper to take away what counts, that is the gift. But it is only because you can not even imagine the power (that's right: I said power) of a written text, even if they are pages for children, not the Divine Comedy, able to cry, laugh, shake for anger, fear or keep you awake into the night, with the battery under the bed to see if the little unlucky and Oliver finally able to escape its terrible and very bad Fagin appears Sikes. Or if the mysterious Captain Nemo will be able to lead the submarine Nautilus to victory in the fight against the giant squid. And yet, to see if Mr. Duncombe will never understand the torment of his eldest son Humphrey (misunderstood by everyone after the death of the mother) it is committed to dispense understanding and affection for his youngest son Miles (unbearable injustice!).
This dear lady, as nervous as the four arrows that you left on the street, you deny your son in exchange for bringing a scooter fake. You know what? That colorful newspaper that has no place in your bag too full, I'll take you home where I'll find another child is always ready to ask: papo read me a story. In return, if you change your mind, I can give you one of those books, "ancient" in our family are now the third generation. You look old and damaged, with torn pages scribbled here and there, but believe me the broken toy is thrown, the book worn and a bit 'broken-down, because it has been picked up so many times, is a guarantee of quality.
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